


Tortellini

by mochocho



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Established Relationship, Italian Food, M/M, Set somewhere between seasons 4 & 5, fluffy fluff, maybe kinda funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochocho/pseuds/mochocho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt and Jesse go out to eat at a place so fancy, the menu isn't even in English.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tortellini

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashkiis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashkiis/gifts).



> I wrote this painfully fluffy one-shot in about half an hour. Dedicated to my friend Ashkiis as a present for their lovely writing and for being a really nice person (I figured after having to write a very sad and hurt Jesse in your story you might like to read some fluffy fluff). Enjoy.

Jesse had never even set foot in a place this fancy before.

 

Sure, he had been out to eat heaps of times:

 

  * At Denny’s with Mr White, at Denny's with Badger and Skinny Pete, at Denny's with this girl he was interested in one time, at Denny's by himself etc. etc...
  * Cheap little sushi places with Ginny where he learned that raw salmon was disgusting but California rolls actually weren't too bad.
  * Loyola’s with Mike, obviously.
  * That seedy little café on the other side of Albuquerque _(where he was very lucky to have not caught Salmonella)_ with Badger.
  * Even a French bakery with his parents when he was younger _(he had eaten like, five whole chocolate bread things and thrown up on the way home)._



 

But _this_ place, this place put them all to shame.

 

 

“Yo, the menu’s not even in English,” Jesse complained loudly, making a passing waiter in a fancy suit glare at him. “What the hell is a… tort…linny?”

 

“Tortellini, Jesse. It’s a type of pasta.” Mr White rolled his eyes and Jesse scowled.

 

“ _Tor-tell-ini_.” Jesse repeated in a bad imitation of Mr White’s stupid voice. “How was I supposed to know that? I don’t speak like, Portuguese or whatever this is.”

 

“It’s Italian. I figured it would be obvious by the photos of Italian food throughout the restaurant and the word _Italiano_ on the front of the menu.” Mr White was trying to sound grumpy but Jesse could see the amused twinkle in his eyes.

 

He stuck out his tongue and made the corners of the man’s mouth curve upwards, just a little bit.

 

“Whatever, man.”

 

 

Jesse took a sip from his glass of water _(the jug even had a slice of lemon in it and everything)_ and studied his partner in front of him. Mr White was dressed nicer than usual for the occasion, he was wearing like a proper tie and jacket and it made Jesse feel a little self-conscious about his own pullover and jeans but at least it was something that actually fit him properly for once.

 

Jesse knew Mr White had never really liked his baggy clothes and if he were really honest with himself, it was part of the reason he had started to put a bit more thought into what he was wearing every day. He had wanted to look a little less like a junkie and a drug dealer and more like a person with an actual respectable job _(of a meth cook)._

 

Oh well. The thought was there.

 

 

Jesse picked at the bread basket and grinned when he found a word on the menu he actually recognised.

 

“Hey, look, they have pizza!”

 

“Jesse, you are not ordering pizza.”

 

“Why not, bitch? It’s on the menu.” Jesse replied through a mouthful of bread and Mr White only scowled in reply. He scanned through the list of pizzas to find more words he knew and chose one he liked the look of.

 

“Look at that one, it has like three different kinds of cheese.”

 

“Jesse, you are _not_ ordering pizza.”

 

“I so am ordering pizza.”

 

“You’re insufferable.” Mr White sighed, giving Jesse a tired look but Jesse wasn’t convinced.

 

“Hey, this was your idea, you know.” Jesse reminded him. Mr White’s eyes softened.

 

“I figured you deserved a proper date for once. After everything that’s happened.”

 

 

_After everything that’s happened._

 

 

The memories of the dry heat of Mexico, the bodies falling around him, the bullet that pierced Mike’s stomach, Brock sick in the hospital, the gun he had pointed at Mr White’s head, that fucking bomb in that _fucking nursing home_ were still so fresh and so raw in Jesse’s mind and it must’ve shown on his face because Mr White took his hands from across the table before they could start shaking.

 

“Jesse. It’s okay now.” He said gently and Jesse took a breath and tried to let the words sink in.

 

“Yeah, I know.” He wanted very badly to believe it.

 

Mr White nodded like he knew exactly what he was feeling and Jesse felt a sudden surge of tenderness and warmth towards the stupid, arrogant, pompous, loyal, brave, thoughtful, loving asshole in front of him.

 

Mr White kissed his hand and made Jesse smile. When the fancy-pants waiter reappeared a few minutes later, Mr White ordered a pasta dish for himself _(which he pronounced perfectly because he was a fucking show-off)_ and for Jesse, the three-cheese pizza.

 

 

And it was the best pizza he had eaten in his entire life.


End file.
